Fine on the Outside
by fineontheoutside
Summary: Before Mello, Matt found himself to be alone, with no one but his games to keep him company. Mello changed him. He began to smile and laugh and talk to others. But then he left. Following Matt's life where the blond had affected him the most. From where they first meet in the Wammy House in Winchester England to their death in the unforgivingly cold Tokyo surroundings.
1. First Meet

_First Death note fanfic. I'd really like to have some constructive criticism on this since I've never written fanfictions outside of the Magic Kaito fandom. _

He stared at the small screen of his gameboy. Watching intently at the colorful characters that lived heroic lives inside the game in his hands. Matt's fingers moved quickly, pushing certain buttons to defeat the villain. Occasionally, they seemed to still out of irritation if he had made a wrong attack or the boss had gained an additional boost of HP. "Damn," the child whispered when a large 'You Lose' had filled the screen and the music played into the empty hallway. He shook his head to push away the loose strands of his vibrant red hair out of his sight and placed the game down on his lap to readjust his orange goggles. They were beginning to dig into his skin so he decided to take them off until he beat the level he was on. He blinked a couple times, unaccustomed to seeing the world without the orange tint that his goggles had offered before picking up the game back into his small hands. Quickly, he had forgotten the world and was engaged in the quest to defeat whatever villain there was to defeat.

The hallway was empty. He preferred it this way. While most of the Wammy children were outside playing, Matt took the opportunity of the near-empty orphanage to play his games in peace. Without the loud, nosy orphans to ask him what he was playing or if they could have a go after him, he felt he could finally play without finding a place to hide.

_I never had that many friends growing up._

_So I learned to be okay with just me._

Sometimes during the day, he hid in the closet with all of the cleaning supplies to keep him company but was often caught by Roger when he came in to instruct other orphans who had gotten in trouble and became responsible to clean the cafeteria as punishment. He used to hide in the bathroom but quickly realized that it wasn't an ideal place to play his games if he didn't want to be interrupted continually by unbroken knocks on the door until he came out. His own room had become out of the question recently, starting his obnoxious complication for solitary peace, when Roger found out that Matt spends nearly all of his time in his room, isolated from all of the other kids and playing video games. Very much to the annoyance of Matt, Roger had locked the door to his room during the peak hours of socializing between the children.

_Just me._

He could hear the children outside laughing and making the noises that children do when they're outside. Matt never understood the reason behind how slides and swings and jungle gyms could be so entertaining enough to willingly lead anyone outside into the heat. He was a stranger to being in groups and playing in the park. More than just groups, Matt was foreign to the concept of relationships with people in general. Between a mixture of choice and what occurred, he lived in the Wammy House without a group to belong in, without other children to rely and talk to. Perhaps he preferred it, he wasn't sure himself but decided even if he didn't have anyone to talk about the new item he had gained or the cheat code to beat the last boss, it was nice to not have anyone that would nag him about borrowing games and actually try to lead on a conversation with.

_Just me._

Matt stretched out his legs, trying to get more comfortable leaning his back against the wall. His goggles remained on his lap, forgotten as he played on his game. The music played a simple, repetitive tune and the colorful characters on the screen were controlled by Matt's swift, calculating fingers. He was too involved with his gameboy to notice the boy about his own age walk up to him. His game was interrupted when the boy with long blond hair came up next to him. "Hey!" he shouted. Matt flinched but ignored him, continuing his game. The boy probably wasn't talking to him anyway. This seemed to infuriate the blond. "Hey Red!" he yelled.

_Just me._

Matt looked at the blond kid. "What?" he asked tonelessly. "Turn off your god damn game, I'm trying to study. I'm not about to deal with shit like you today," the blond said, speaking quickly and confidently. For a moment, Matt didn't know how to respond, he couldn't remember the last time someone had spoken to him, he'd definitely ever been told anything worded like that. In a split second decision, he decided to answer in the same tone. It's normal for ten year olds to curse, right?

"Let me do what I want…fucker." The blond widened his eyes, his entity overwhelmed with anger and surprise. But before he could react, Matt sensed the danger in his eyes and stood up and apologized coolly. "All right, sorry, sorry. My bad. I'll go take my games and go somewhere else." With that, Matt ran off. His legs were still shaking when he was in the janitor's closet. It had been a while since he had talked to someone. Unlike a game, he couldn't predict how the blond would react. It was almost like a game itself, seeing what actions would lead to what emotions in the boy.

The blond stood in the empty hallway even after Matt had left. No one had ever talked back to him. Never. It was almost like a competition. A who-could-out-best-the-other-in-words kind of competition. And he was not about to lose.

It was intriguing, really. How the one had impacted the other in the compact amount of time.

_And I'll be fine on the outside._

More than a week had passed before the two spoke again. Matt had almost forgotten about the incident and continued to play his gameboy in odd places where there was no one else to bother him. Matt appeared for lunch one day, which was rare since he usually took the time that everyone was eating as another opportunity to game but he was hungry, as he had skipped breakfast to beat a particularly difficult boss. He sat alone in the cafeteria, the chairs surrounding him empty among the near-capacity room. The dessert was being served (chocolate mousse) when the blond had walked into the cafeteria.

_I like to eat in school by myself anyways._

_So I'll just stay right here._

The cafeteria had suddenly grown quiet, tension rising in the air as he strode his way to the table where he always ate lunch alone. Matt couldn't see him but he could hear his shouts. Someone had taken the seat that he always sat in, Matt vaguely made out in the yelling. All of the other tables were full with the orphans that remained silent and watched the scene unfold. The angry blond had suddenly stomped his way toward the table that remained empty except for Matt.

_Right here._

"You going to move?" the blond asked. "And sit where? Just take a seat," Matt shrugged, recognizing him as the boy he met the other day. The blond looked at him strangely. He was still angry but seemed to have controlled his temper slightly better due to the chocolate mousse in front of him. When he quickly finished it, Matt offered him his. Matt was never one for sweets. "What's your name anyway?" the blond asked. Matt froze. He didn't know how to answer. Roger called him 'Matt' but that wasn't what he had been called by his late parents. He was quiet for a moment, and then quietly he answered. "Mail Jeevas."

_Right here._

"Are you fucking stupid or something?" the blond asked. He looked around the room to see if anyone was listening to the answer. When he observed that all of the other orphans were too busy talking amongst themselves to eavesdrop on two socially challenged boys, he continued. "Listen, I go by Mello by that's not the name I was born with. You're expected to use the alias you were given when you first came here in the Wammy House. What's your rank, in the hundreds?"

Matt stared at him for a second longer. "I-I'm third," he said. Mello coughed. Violently. "You're third?" Mello asked dumbfounded. Matt nodded sheepishly. "Number three is someone by the name Matt, that's you?" Matt nodded again. Mello finished his chocolaty dessert and Matt asked what rank he was. "Second, and don't you forget it," he said and smiled at Matt. "First is that weird, little kid that wears pajamas all the time right? He's a creep," the red head said. "You're exactly right," Mello said, seeming proud that someone didn't admire the puffball.

Mello stood up, leaving behind the two empty bowls that once held chocolate mousse. Matt saw his back as he walked away. "You coming?" the blond asked, turning around to face the surprised red head.

_Right here._

Matt smiled. It was weird, talking to someone, but this was normal for kids his age. And Mello seemed all right compared to all the other Wammy kids. In the end, Matt became friends with Mello because someone talked to him first and Mello became friends with Matt because he was the first person that ever talked back.

_And I'll be fine on the outside._


	2. Mello's Leave

This was it. It was the end, wasn't it? Matt sat in his room. He was alone. Had it been a measly five years ago, he would have been used to it. In fact the Matt from five years ago would have been uncomfortable with the thought of spending as much time as he had gotten used to socializing with Mello, or anyone else. He had his games and he was fine with that. His games kept him entertained. His games gave him company when the children of Wammy didn't.

But then one did. Mello. Abruptly, Mello fabricated himself into Matt's lifestyle. He changed Matt. Before, the red head had sat in the back of the class, zoning out or playing his gameboy under his desk, ignoring all of other students; slowly Mello changed him. Slowly Mello eased him to become more responsive towards students and the teachers. He smiled more and began to talk in class. He started to laugh. Mello changed him.

And then he left.

When Mello found out L had died, he lost his senses. Mello believed L had saved him from whatever dark past that Mello held back from Matt. But Matt had never pried for an answer. He had been keeping the final memories of his late, loving parents a silent secret and found no reason to try to force Mello out of a somber story. When Mello's savior was determined to be dead, more than feeling the need to recover from L's death, he found the need to find Mello. Near and the blond were called into Roger's office to talk about who was to follow L's steps before Matt (or anyone else) had known of the great detective's unfortunate death. He needed to find the blond. He needed to.

Mello was gone by the time Matt reached his room. And that hurt almost as bad as L's chest in his final moments. Matt couldn't breathe. It couldn't be right. Mello was gone. Without a note, without anything, Mello had disappeared. 'Breathe,' he thought. 'You have to breathe.' Roger came up from behind him and gently placed his hand on Matt's shaking shoulder. "I'm fine," he lied. Roger said nothing and stared at the half empty room with the broken teen.

_And I'll be fine on the outside._

Matt sat in his room alone, it felt cold. His game was sitting impatiently on his lap, playing the same obnoxious music that caused Mello to come out of his room to yell at Matt all those years ago. Matt paid no attention to the game, instead, trying to imagine Mello reading his criminal terminology textbook several chapters ahead from the rest of the class on the floor of the cold room. He couldn't. Mello came with a strong aura of confidence and sometimes self consciousness. Two extreme opposites that fought internally within Mello. He was both strong and weak. Brave and scared. The strong opposing forces were present in everything he was and did. The characteristics formed Mello into the unique character he was. Mello was nothing but a contradiction. Matt never felt so alone.

The room just seemed so empty. It was dark. He had turned the lights off to avoid Roger from checking on him. It was so dark. So lonely. There was a single moon to provide faint lighting into the cold, pale room. It wasn't even a full moon like the ones in those unrealistic romance movies that the girls of Wammy occasionally snuck out of the orphanage to see in the run down theater. A small sliver of white that sliced through the black sky in the shape of a sickle. A starless sky.

Oh god. It hurt. Mello. He was gone. He was really gone. Mello He changed Matt. Made him different and then left. He was just fine, you know, with himself and the numerous hours he spent playing his games. He couldn't, it wasn't possible, Mello made Matt different and then left. It was like playing a two player game by himself. It was difficult to advance.

_And so I'll just sit in my room after hours with the moon_

_And think of who knows my name_

His gameboy that was balanced on his lap suddenly died. The little illumination that it provided was abruptly stolen from him. The room existed sans the repetitive music and the room instantly seemed that much emptier, that much lonely. The sliver of a moon tried its best to reach its soft light into the comfort of the red head to no avail.

He understood the significance of his name now. Now. As Kira's rise to power had become publicly known, even sinless people began to form aliases. The Wammy House had protected the orphaned children, creating the false names for them to live by, but Matt had screwed up. He told Mello his name all those years ago. God, he was stupid. Mello wasn't one to forget something as important as that. Even if he pretended to, Mello would remember. Right? He thought knew the chocolateholic well enough but that was before he evaporated leaving small traces that he had ever set foot in the orphanage.

It hit him. The dull pain. Mello didn't care about him. Mello didn't care. He didn't care. He didn't. He didn't. He didn't. Matt felt his eyes sting as the realization drowned him, a tsunami that slapped his entity, swirling with the strong currents; refusing to settle. It was unbearable. "I'm not going to cry over you, goddamn it!" he yelled in the empty room. He ripped his goggles off with fierce intensity and threw them. He heard it hit the wall but he couldn't see where it landed. Holding his breath, he angry wiped the beginnings of tears. His game slid from his lap and hit the floor loudly. He didn't care. He didn't care about his stupid game because he remembered. He remembered the first time he met Mello, he had taken his goggles off. An act he rarely did. He didn't try to conceal his sobs. It just hit him. He couldn't contain his tears. He knew Mello would look down on him for doing so, calling him a nasty name if he saw him crying. But it didn't matter. Mello wasn't in Wammy's anymore. Mello wasn't here to call him names, or eat meals with, or even to simply acknowledge each other's presence in a comfortable silence of gaming and studying. He was gone.

Had Mello forgotten about him? If not, will he? Will Mello never recall the time they pranked Near and tye-dyed his favorite white pajamas? Will Mello forget his past at the Wammy House? Will Mello forget Matt? Is there going to be a day where Mello tries to remember a friend he once had and be unsuccessful in remembering what Matt had looked like? Had Mello already moved on to his next life, leaving behind a broken Matt? The despair was too much of a burden. The thoughts were too heavy. He was gone. Whatever happened to Mello was none of Matt's concern anymore. But the same went the other way. Whether Matt became successful in life (yeah right) or even died, there was no way for Mello to know. Would he even care? If Matt died trying to take down Kira or trying to do something heroic and noteworthy, how would Mello react? Would he even take the time to acknowledge that it was his childhood friend? It was pathetic how Matt became uncertain of everything. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. Everything suddenly felt mediocre.

_Would you cry if I died?_

_Would you remember my face?_

The news of Mello's leave spread quickly. Matt stayed in his room the next day. Missing breakfast and lunch and almost missing dinner before Roger forced him out into the cafeteria. There was a thick tension seeping into the room as Matt ate the tasteless meal alone at the table that was accustomed to hold two.

Linda and one of her friends were talking in the hall when Matt ran into them, leaving halfway through the meal. "Matt! You're going to be okay?" Linda asked gently. He shrugged, avoiding Linda's eye contact. The other girl started talking this time. "You really didn't hear anything from him? Weren't you guys friends?" It stung. "I don't know…" he whispered. The two girls didn't know to reply and a small break of silence answered for them.

"Matt," Linda finally said sadly. "Please don't cry." And sure enough, Matt noticed his goggles collecting the tears he didn't know he had cried.

_I'll try to get the next chapter out soon! Please review!_


	3. Something Great

Matt smoked a cigarette. He had gotten into the habit of shortly after Mello left, an older boy offering one to him. At first he had declined, still a child being told of the dangers of smoking but the older teen gave him one anyway, saying it settled the nerves and that was enough for Matt to start. It burned when he took the first drag. He had taken too deep of an inhale for his virgin lungs and he wheezed in protest involuntarily. "It gets better," were the last words Matt had heard from him after he tossed the box with a large number of cigarettes still remaining in the red head's direction. He must've heard about the dependent friend that Mello left behind.

It really did calm him down after the first cigarette. And he continued to smoke years and years after the first. He disregarded all the times that Roger scolded him for smoking and was punished to clean the kitchen. All it did was feel the loneliness creep in from unexpected places. Like the closet that held the cleaning supplies that he used to hide in before he met Mello. In odd corners and concealed spaces where Matt had lived, sealed off from the rest of the world. Damn, he still thought about. Years later, it still hurt.

It was more than four years since Mello had left him in the god forsaken orphanage alone. Matt was still alone. It wasn't like Matt was about to open up to any of the other kids. Like Near, the overgrown cotton ball? No, he left almost as soon as Mello had to track down Kira, the very job that Mello left to accomplish. There was nothing for Matt in the orphanage anymore. He was leaving. He had decided on it and nothing was there to change his mind. Matt already had most of his essentials packed away when the time came. He was just waiting for the twenty seconds of courage to do it. He was waiting for a burst of courage to lead him to jump the tall fence that surrounded the Wammy House like a prison. Of course he had snuck out plenty of times before, but that was always with the blond beside him, whispering words of the great something that existed beyond the stuffy orphanage. The great something, an unknown wonder that Matt and Mello were convinced resides far away from the jail-like orphanage. It kept them up at night, talking about the better life that was the great something. They didn't know where or what it was but they knew it was something to make their lives tolerable.

After the two top ranked students left the orphanage, Matt was named first. With his nimble fingers to do anything and everything it was possible with computers and anything remotely subjected into engineering, Matt had exceeded. But it didn't matter. Matt, first off, had no desire to risk his life solving mysteries and pushing justice to prevail amongst sleepless nights and intense concentration to pick up even the tiniest of clues without breaks to play games. Even if he did, it wasn't possible for him. There was a second generation L snaking his way around Japan, claiming to be closer and closer to catching the mass-murderer Kira. There wasn't a need for him anymore.

Everything just seemed so mediocre.

_So I left home_

_I packed up_

His cell phone rang. It took him a moment to figure out where the sound was coming from. No one called him. There was no one that he talked to. He glanced at the number. An unidentified one, coming in long distance. The back of his mind wondered if it could possibly be- it wasn't. It couldn't. After so long without communicating, it wasn't Mello. Still, Matt answered the phone, waiting for the voice to answer his hopes.

It was a gruff voice, an un-Mello like voice. "Is this Matt?" He sighed. "Yeah, what's it to ya?" The phone fell silent for a few seconds, slight back ground noises leaking through. Matt was already finished with the conversation and it seemed quizzical as to why he hadn't yet ended the call.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" a different voice asked. It was a smoother voice. Quieter and more confident. The red head tried to breathe, his throat contracting. The cigarette he held between his lips fell onto the floor, a thin trail of smoke leading off of it. It's not. It wasn't possible.

"Mello," he breathed. Just speaking the name out loud had brought back all of the memories of their childhood. He'd forgotten how much he loved the name, or perhaps not forgotten but blocked out of memory to stop the pain. He just wanted to say the name over and over again. "Yeah…" the voice on the other end of the line sighed. And suddenly Matt was yelling. "Where are you, Mello? Why'd you think you could leave me without a word! What the hell! Mello! Mello. Mello," his voice softened at the end, the very name having a calming effect on him. "I'm not telling you where I am Matt," Mello stated simply. Matt inhaled sharply and quickly, rashly, set up a program on his laptop. In cop shows there's often cool computers designed to track the location of phone calls. Matt had designed one in his free time (since he had nothing if not time) and the result was something Matt found pride in. He attached the cell phone to the computer and instantly it began to narrow down to where Mello was under the everlasting sky.

"Why'd you call?" Matt suddenly asked. Mello was going on about how he didn't want to drag Matt into the complicated mess of hell that became Mello's, but really, if Mello offered, Matt would've taken it without a second thought. The blond sighed. "I wanted to talk to you," a pause. "I'm going to catch Kira, you know. And maybe after I do, I'll catch you around sometime." Matt stared at the small red dot in the middle of the computer screen. He was in Japan and Matt knew exactly where. "I'm going to find you Mello, all right? Before you catch Kira because that's going to take too long. I want to 'catch you around' now." Mello laughed, clearly he didn't believe his childhood friend, but it seemed to put him in a good mood knowing someone cared. "Sure thing Matt." And the conversation was over.

The small red dot. It was a start. This was the twenty seconds of courage, but it wasn't. It was more like fifteen minutes of courage as he waved good bye to the few orphans he knew. "I'm going to go find Mello!" he boasted to Linda, who smiled back, surprised to see him so happy in the first time in many years. He even went into Roger's office, politely thanking him for providing for him for so long. "Well, I better be off," he said and Roger, with a tired smile, opened the oversized gates for him. It had been ages since he saw the gate open for the leave of a Wammy child. Now it was open for him.

"Come back and see us one day," Roger said in his tired voice. Matt nodded. With that, he turned his back on the building where he spent his childhood causing mischief. He never looked back, keeping the ghosts that resided in the Wammy House there. He was gone.

_and I moved far away  
From my past one day,  
And I laughed_

It existed. A great something. Something great. It existed past the park, past the small town with the local chocolate house and the game store. It prevailed upon a place that resided further than the furthest place that Matt could remember setting foot on. A great something existed and Matt now knew he had to find it. And though he didn't know exactly where it was, he sure as hell knew it wasn't in the Wammy House. It was in people like Mello. And he wanted to find it.

As an orphan of founded by Mister Wammy himself, he was granted with more than enough money (given to him by Roger before he left) to buy the necessary plane ticket to fly to Japan. The trip seemed to stretch forever; from England to Japan. He fought his boredom by the company of his loyal gameboy, and when a rather busty flight attendant had come up to him to take away the cigarette he was trying to light, he spent the rest of the trip pressing the call button to annoy her by asking for ridiculous requests for the duration of the flight.

_I laughed._

The moment Matt hopped off the plane and made his way out of the airport (which was no easy task for a teenage gamer who had never seen farther than the borders of Winchester England) he bought a car with the remaining money from Roger (after harsh bargaining with the seller) and set off to the small red dot on his laptop screen. The red car that Matt had become the proud owner of, a 1968 Chevrolet Camaro that drove like a dream. He drove quickly, hoping to meet his childhood friend after the countless years of being alone.

The foreign frontier showed candy colored lights as they blurred past him. He loved it, really. How different the large city seemed to be compared to the Wammy House. So bright, so lively and free. He felt free. Freedom from the smothering gates and blank interior. There were people outside. People of every age, strangers upon strangers that seemed to be forgotten in the vast number of them. This was what Mello left for, Matt thought vaguely. When the city turned to a small speck of light, he lit a cigarette and never looked back. He was so close to stumbling across something great.

_I laughed._

He was suddenly appreciative toward the Japanese classes he was required to take in the orphanage after L announced to take on Kira. Mello studied the language frantically, learning with an distinct intensity to become literate and talk sans accent. It was true Mello studied harder in learning how to speak clearly in a completely foreign language than Matt, but Matt kept taking the mandatory Japanese class for years after Mello had left. Matt really never understood why the blond practiced to desperately wipe away his accent, for his blond hair would give away his non-Japanese ethnicity much quicker than his words. In the end, it must've helped him one way or another though.

Matt was almost there. To the shabby warehouse that Mello had called him from. He was going to see him soon. He found himself hoping that he kept his hair long and his chocolate craving infinite. He was going to see Mello again. After the years of eating lunch alone, after years upon years of wondering if Mello even remembered him, Matt was meeting Mello in a few short minutes. A black van pulled out from the street that led to the warehouse, and sped away at a rapid rate. The gamer wondered vaguely if that was Mello, and if he was slipping through his fingers when he was so close, but he felt he needed to go and see the warehouse. Mello was going to be there. He had to. It was going to be like when they were kids again.

_I laughed._

He gasped when the building came into sight. The cigarette he was about to light fell out of his mouth, he didn't notice. Oh god, oh god, oh god. No. NO, it couldn't. Mello. The building was burning. It was crumbling, fire eating away at everything. He didn't remember running out of the car, but it happened nevertheless. Screaming the name of the boy he wanted to meet frantically. He wasn't thinking; he ran into the building. It was immensely hot, and the gamer hated heat but he searched for the childhood friend. It was hell. "Mello! God damn it, Mello, answer me!" Mello had to be here.

And sure enough, there he was. The blond, lied on his left side near the other end of the ruined building. He screamed out his name, but the blond didn't move. Adrenaline fueled Matt as he ran toward him. He was shivering, despite the hungry flames that lapped around him. He yelled out the unconscious boy's name as he got to him. Without thinking, he picked him up fireman style and ran out to wear the flames wouldn't get them. The goggles protected his eyes from the smoke, aiding in saving Mello.

He cranks the ac all the way up and gently places Mello in the back seat, laying him down. "What have you gotten yourself into?" he asks him, expecting no answer. He was badly burned; the left side of his youthful face down to mid-ribcage was fleshy and bleeding with unmistakable scarring. But he was breathing. And in that moment, as Matt rested his head on the steering wheel, still too shaky to drive, found himself praying to the god that Mello believed in. Thanking the god he didn't particularly believe in, but thanking him nevertheless for letting him find Mello before it was too late. Mello would need care on his burn but Matt could do that himself. He remembered the medical classes he took in the orphanage pretty well after Mello suggested he thought of the human body as a piece of machinery. Mello going to the hospital was out of the question too, no doctor in the entire country would care for him without proper identification.

"Are you fucking stupid or something?" a voice asked quietly when Matt finally started the car. He whipped his head back, staring into the blue eyes that showed pain and fatigue. "Just rest," he warned to the injured blond. Mello obliged, obviously in too much pain to struggle and almost immediately he lost conscious once again. "You're going to be fine," Matt promised as he drove off to care for Mello's wounds.

_I sound fine on the outside._

_ Authors note: Forgive me dear readers, I messed up. I'm pretty sure Mello was in LA when Soichiro and Matsuda and everyone barged in and Sochiro almost wrote his name in the death note. But I was thinking that since Soichiro died with Light by his side, I thought that he was in Japan since Light stayed in Japan. Anyway, Sorry sorry sorry._

_The one who called Matt first before passing it to Mello was Ross Rod, for those curious. And the black van that Matt saw carried Light's dad and everyone involved to the hospital._

_All right, please leave a review._


	4. Scars

Matt watched Mello, who was still sleeping on the couch. He should've taken him to a hospital. He should've, but it just wasn't possible for someone like Mello. Really, Mello was lucky to be alive. If Matt hadn't found him, surely he would've died. His plans to catch Kira would've ended in a mass of fiery heat. It had been two days since he last woke up. It was really worrisome to Matt. He had taken the basic medical class at the Wammy House, and it taught him how to treat wounds, including burns of various degrees and sizes but he wasn't sure if it really was okay for Mello to be sleeping as long as he was.

He was exhausted. He hadn't slept in the two days Mello had, watching over him, treating his wounds. Half of his face was bandaged, courtesy of Matt's skilled fingers but it covered both eyes, as it was the easiest way to fully cover the burned skin. Surely Mello would whine and gripe about it but it was the solution that Matt found fit. And finally, the longest break of sleeplessness Matt had suffered came to an end. He fell asleep on the floor, the cigarette he had been smoking, laying useless on the ash tray.

It hadn't been more than a small handful of hours when he was awakened by Mello. Matt sat silently, watching the blond sadly. Mello sat up slowly, obviously in pain as he did so. But if Mello was going to ignore the pain, Matt had no reason to stop him. Mello sat up and his fingers traced the bandages over both his eyes and his left cheek. Then the bandages that covered his chest. He sighed and brought his legs closer to his torso; wrapped his arms around it. Mello rested his head on his knees. He stayed like that for quite some time and Matt watched over him, yet to say something. He seemed so vulnerable. Like when they were kids at the Wammy House. A choked inhale was taken, or maybe it was a muffled sob. Then he took a deep breath, calming himself slightly and stretched his legs back out. Mello was biting his lips, a habit that he did often when he was scared that he'd have to sit through one of Roger's lectures for bullying Near.

"Matt?" Mello asked slowly, his voice rough and scratchy. His voice was quiet and almost scared. Matt stood up and walked closer to the couch. "Yeah? I'll get you some water, you need to stay hydrated," he muttered and left to get a glass for him. Mello tried to reach for him but blindly missed. Matt came back as soon as he could with a tall glass of water. "Drink," he said, lifting the drink towards him. It took a couple seconds of Mello's hands feeling around the open air before he felt the cold glass. He brought it to his lips and drank the whole thing without a word. "I'm fucked, aren't I?" Mello asked bitterly, his voice sounding slightly better.

_Sometimes I feel lost_

"You're not fucked Mello, you just fucked up. It's two different things," Matt reasoned. Even in a situation like this, he felt relief to be so close to the blond. "Are you hungry? I'll make you some food." The injured teen laughed ironically. "I'm fucked Matt. I am absolutely fucked beyond a hope of repair because I fell as so low to depend on your cooking." Matt grinned and muttered that it was safer for him to shut up. For Matt, he thought the blond was taking his situation pretty well, but it might have just been the large dose of painkillers that coursed through his body that was yet to wear off.

And sure enough by the next morning, Mello was in obvious discomfort, thrashing on the couch. He was kicking the covers that Matt placed on him off and trying to claw off the bandages across his face that the red head spent a long time carefully wrapping it securely. He was sobbing, crying out in pain. Matt ran over to him and tried to comfort as best he could but was quickly brushed away. But he didn't give up, clutching the panicked teen as he fought back against the hold. "Let go!" Mello spat, but he didn't, ignoring the order. "Calm fucking down!" Matt shot back with just as much venom, and the blond grew limp in his arms. He fell back onto the couch, unable to stop shaking. Matt got him another glass of water, to which the blond promptly dropped unable to see where to place his hands. He cursed and Matt told him it wasn't a big deal. What was Matt going to do with Mello?

_Sometimes I'm confused_

Matt took only a couple hours of sleep at a time. He stayed unbelievably busy and rarely had time to play on his gameboy. But to make up for it, his smoking increased much to Mello's obvious voiced discomfort. He 'didn't like the smell' but Matt ignored him (and fed him large amounts of chocolate to compensate), as he had a growing need for the calming effect it had on him.

It took weeks before Matt decided that the wounds could be unwrapped from the confiding bandages. He knew that they'd be horribly scarred and probably hurts worse than death but the bandages would have to come off sometime and it'd be preferable to do so before an infection sets in. He was just worried of how Mello would handle it.

Mello sat stiffened on the couch as Matt got ready to peel the bandages off. He had prepared a variety of tools on the coffee table nearest them. The most notable was a mirror and heavy sedatives. He started with the wounds on his chest, slowly exposing the torso and chest that were damaged in a rippled, rough terrain. It was worse than he predicted to be. "You'll be able to hide most of the scars with your leather vest Mells," he said quietly. Mello said nothing, patiently waiting to be able to see his face. And slowly, as Matt exposed the skin, Mello looked frantically into Matt's eyes looking for a glimmer of a sign of how he looked; Matt struggled to keep a poker face. Carefully he handed the scarred blond the mirror and he stared at his reflection for several moments.

_Sometimes I find that I'm not alright_

"I look fucking awful," he stated and the room fell silent. Matt watched him sadly. He didn't apologize, he didn't lie; he didn't say a single word to comfort the blond as he stared at the scarring on his once flawless face. Mello threw the mirror and it shattered, still holding his reflection in the broken state. "Fucking damn it!" he yelled.

"God fucking damn it!" he shouted and Matt let him. He held his scared scarred face. "It'll be all right," Matt said quietly. "Not right now, I know, so it's okay to be angry right now. Hell, wreck havoc if it'll make you feel better. Just know it'll get better." Mello flared anger but held his tongue. He ripped Matt's hand off his face and laid on the couch, staring at the ceiling with a scarily intense concentration. "There's nothing for me anymore."

_And I cry_

"I'll be by your side, and there's Kira you promised to catch," Matt said, trying to give purpose back to the depressed blond. "You don't want to lose to _Near_, do you?" He stays silent and it's the silence that fills Matt with fear. "Yeah," he said finally, almost going unheard. They don't talk after that, and rarely even moved. Matt chain-smoked, desperately needing the continuous flow of vapor to calm himself. He didn't know how many he had smoked until he reached into an empty box of Marlboro lights. There were at least ten cigarettes in the box hours earlier. He left to get alcohol from the kitchen. Really, alcohol seemed like such a necessity at the moment, Matt would've settled for rubbing alcohol if there really wasn't any other option.

He came back in the room, bringing back a bottle of Bacardi 151, an incredibly strong rum he didn't know he was in possession of. Mello was still lying on his back, gently tracing over the scars that ran across half his face. Matt took several, large gulps from the bottle, feeling the immediate relief that it offered. "I can't feel it," Mello said, talking about on half of his face. "I can't feel anything where it's burned." Matt roughly handed him the bottle of rum and Mello read the warning label. "God damn," he muttered. "It comes with a flammability warning," but it went straight down his throat nevertheless.

"It hurts," he finally admitted to Matt. Neither were too drunk yet, but the alcohol certainly did have an effect on the two of them. "I can't feel anything but god, it hurts so bad."

_And I cry_

It happened so fast. It was mostly upon Matt's own control but the rum gave him a boost of confidence that he used for better or worse. He kissed Mello's scarred forehead without a moment of hesitation. He didn't hold his lips there for an extended amount of time. Simply placed it there for a quick second and then left. Matt drank a more than unhealthy dose of the alcohol as Mello wallowed in shock. He couldn't feel the pressure of Matt's lips upon him.

The two of them couldn't finish the bottle. They didn't try. They were passed the phase of drinking more than they could hold like horny teenage frat boys at a party they begged to get invited to. But really, they were at the age where it would be understandable. If they weren't Wammy children, if they didn't hold responsibilities the weight of the world on their backs, would they be going to parties, laughing, unable to hold even the smallest responsibilities? Certainly the two of them wouldn't be there, in a darkened apartment in Japan, drinking away the pain. It was the tragedy of living; how anything and everything could happen and change them.

The alcohol coursing through them left them more open. As the two laid on their backs and stared at the ceiling, piece by piece, they admitted how lonely they were. Matt, even in the woozy state he was in; he remembered that whenever they started to steal bottles of liquor in the orphanage when they were just barley fourteen, Mello would drink too much and be a sad drunk. It made him smile to see that something stayed the same when Mello cried softly over the hell that was inflicted upon him and Matt brought comfort to him.

_And I cry_

It was night, and it took several hours for sleep to finally settle into the crumbling souls of the two teens, but as they had the comfort of the warm feeling that the rum offered coursing through their system and each other's shoulders to cry or to doze off on, they felt peace for the first time in years.

_I'm planning two more chapters before Fine on the Outside comes to a close. Thank you for the support, they really do mean a lot to me. Please continue to review if you liked it! _

_Hopefully I'll be able to find the time to write once school starts. I'm taking five AP classes, one Pre-AP, and band (we have practice almost every day). I'm going to die…_


	5. Finale

He would die in place of Mello, if it ever came to it. He knew it for a while now. Since the days he spent with Mello pouring hours over the Kira case. Really, he probably knew it since he met him in the Wammy House. It seemed like such a long time ago. Being children. For Matt, it felt like a dream or an entire lifetime ago where they spent their childhood laughing and gaming and studying. Where in the Wammy House, they roused mischief wherever they passed, pranking Near, stealing their required doses of chocolate and eventually liquor, sneaking out of the orphanage for the newest games, and always, always, always, getting in trouble with Roger. It felt like such a long time ago since they could afford to be children.

Matt knew the plan. And he couldn't afford to fail. Not this time. He trusted Mello, he really did. He was willing to help Mello catch Kira if that was what he wanted to do. But this... Mello said if everything went accordingly to the plan, they got Kira. Everything would end after that. But if there's even the slightest bit of an error, something went unaccounted for; everything would end after that for them. Death was the only way to pay justice according to Kira's philosophy. Matt didn't particularly disagree with it, frankly he didn't really care much with the deaths of all the murderers and rapists and the matter of becoming the next L, but Mello did and that was good enough reason for him.

Kidnap Takada Kiyomi. Simple as that. At times, it seemed like Mello was only ever capable of kidnapping people. Snatching them just as fate had snatched his childhood. It was the final level before they could beat the game, but Matt questioned if they really could clear it. Not that he questioned if they were going to follow through with the plan. As sure as Matt was going to go through multiple packs of cigarettes and Mello was going to devour his stash of chocolate in what could be their final night, Takada Kiyomi was going to be abducted.

He walked to the balcony to smoke a cigarette. It was more trouble than it was worth to smoke it inside with Mello's complaints. The sunset, which could be very well his last sunset, filled the sky in the warm, comforting colors as it stretched everlastingly. How long had it been since Matt took the time to watch the sky change from the brightest of blues, to the deepest oranges and purples and reds, to the final black that encompassed everything? Not since Wammy's. Not since Matt and Mello drank the liquor they stole on the roof of the orphanage they used to call home. He had forgotten of how vibrant the sky became in the final hours.

"Mello! Get out here, Mello," he yelled. But Mello didn't make an appearance outside of his room. So Matt sighed, put out his cigarette, and knocked on the door. "Come on out, Mells," he said in a gentler tone. And slowly, the door opened. Mello almost never locked the door, and Matt could've come in without permission, but he tried to avoid it when he could. Especially not the day before their last kidnapping. Mello's eyes were slightly bloodshot and Matt ignored it; he was unable to define the bloodshot look from crying or the lack of sleep he had from the past nights of consistent planning. "Come see the sky," he said and walked him to the balcony. Mello's eyes widened ever so slightly as he took in the glorious array of colors. It must've been a while since he's laid eyes on a sunset too.

_So I just sit in my room_

They watched the sunset in silence, their shoulders brushing against each other occasionally. Mello's hands gripped the bars and leaned moderately out. "Let's climb onto the roof," Mello suggested, the atmosphere between them the calmest and most peaceful as it had been in a while. "Yeah." And so they did, sitting on the roof of their apartment, which was actually against the many rules of their landowner, but they didn't care. They brought a bottle of wine with them, and they took turns taking drinks of the blood red substance. The sky was darkening, finally taking the deep, royal purple into the dark night that converts the array of strong colors to the stubborn, unforgiving black. There were no stars out, making the blackness of evening even more prominent.

The possible death sentence that was waiting for them the next day was temporarily forgotten and they talked. Talking about nothing in particular. They didn't talk about Kira or Near. They didn't talk about Winchester, England or even their childhood at the Wammy House. They didn't mention their obsession with chocolate or video games. They just talked. Staring at the black sheet that blanketed the sky, they talked the talk of the uninvolved. The two could've been an average duo, two kids in just the second arc of their lives talking of the things that kids in the second arc of their lives talk about. And it was beautiful. To pretend, for even the remaining moments, that it wasn't their life that was going to be on the line the next day. To forget that they were pretty much on a suicide mission. Maybe there weren't the scars that Mello hated so much dwelling on his face. Maybe Matt didn't ignore the scarring because of the what-ifs that haunted him. (What if Matt got to Mello before the fire?)

They talked and they forgot. And forgetting was painless. As they slipped into oblivion with their laughs and their wine, the angst ridden story of the two temporarily didn't belong to them. But of course it did. And when the wine was drunk and the talking was finished, they lay in the silence of each other. It was a comfortable silence, one with the chill of Japan's winter creeping in slowly upon them, but without the words, the thought of the next day crept upon them too.

_After hours with the moon_

"I don't want to die," Mello said softly, puncturing the silence with such innocent, truthful words. Matt made a noise to agree with him. "You don't have to do it, you know?" Mello whispered, lying on his back and staring straight up at the unwavering blackness with the insignificant exception of the paper thin moon. "You don't have to help me tomorrow Matt if you don't want to."The red head said nothing. Gathering his thoughts as the blond offered him life. But he could never accept such a thing. So he faked a smile instead. "You won't make it anywhere near Takada without me. Don't get it in your head that you're anywhere near as competent without me." And Mello returned that smile.

"I don't want you to die, either." The words came quietly, almost soundless out of Mello. But they were there, a small string of words that didn't matter in the total outcome of anything. It wasn't going to change minds or stop anything from happening but it existed. And for Matt, at that moment in time, he was utterly thankful for the near-silent words to have been spoken, for it showed that Mello cared. There was no response to that, for really, what could be said to such a thing? So they stared at the night sky that was flawlessly starless. Just like the night that Mello left the orphanage. It was just Matt and the sickle shaped moon that night, all those years ago, but he had Mello beside him now. And he wasn't about to let Mello walk out of his life again without a fight.

They stayed outside until it became the first hours of January 26. By then, the wine was drunk, the talk was talked, the cigarettes were smoked, and the chocolate was devoured. By then, they felt slightly better. If one of them died later that day, at least they knew they wouldn't be alone for too long in the afterlife. For continuing to live alone was more of a hell than Hell could ever be. By two in the morning, they stumbled back into their shared apartment and fell shamelessly asleep on the carpeted floor beside each other, dreaming the dreams of the sinless. It was something great.

Mello didn't want to die to the hands of the death note. He admitted it guiltily to Matt with only a handful of hours left before they left the comfort of the apartment. If Matt was going to have to die, he didn't ponder much on how. Death is death and the outcome was the same, but Mello saw it differently. "If Kira's followers kill me, then what? I die because of his influence. People are panicky and stupid and easily swayed. They would remember murdering the blond heroine that tried to bring justice to the world. But if it's someone with the death note, then they're going to be cold and calculating. Killing me won't be a second thought. It's just writing a name in a notebook and then everything's over for me. And a heart attack, Matt, I don't want to die like that."

"I'd rather die to the death note than people," Matt responded. "I think it'll be an easier way to go. Less messy, less painful." "A well aimed bullet would be less painful. And I'd rather leave a huge mess so that someone would have to clean it up." Matt chuckled. "Yeah, maybe."

They tried to make a final meal together, but neither had the skill to make anything too complicated. So they gave up on trying to decode the Japanese cookbook and made grilled cheese sandwiches like the ones they ate at Wammy's. It was nostalgic, simple. And for dessert, which they rarely ever ate, Matt brought out something he made the day before. Mello looked at the dessert that lay in the glass bowl. A small smile stretched across his lips. He laughed lightly. "You remembered after all this time?" Chocolate mousse. Like the one they ate the second time they exchanged words in the orphanage. Chocolate mousse. The first thing they shared. A comfort found lying in the chocolaty dessert. Matt took a few bites before remembering how little he favored sweet things and gave his share to Mello. It took a little bit more time for Mello to finish Matt's share. He savored it, the mousse that tasted slightly different from the ones they grew up with but tasted like home nevertheless. Still, it disappeared all too soon for both their tastes.

The final moments slipped through their fingers at an incredible rate. Before either realized, they were outside of their apartment they spent most of their time in. It was cold outside. They stood in the parking lot, where they were going to part. They nodded their goodbyes. "I'll see you later." But then they embraced, the unmistakable pain in their chests prominent as they wrapped their arms together. They didn't stay in the hold for more than mere moments but it was enough. "I'm going to see you in a few hours, Mells." "Yeah, stay safe. Don't do anything stupid." "Anything more stupid than this? It'll be pretty hard." "Still. I'll see you around… Mail Jeevas." Matt looked sadly at him. He remembered. "My name-" Mello started but was cut off. "Tell me after we get out of this. I'll be waiting to hear it." And Matt got in his red Camaro. With a slight wave, he drove off as Mello put on his helmet. Mello was biting his lips, as the motorcycle helmet slipped over his head.

_And think of who knows my name_

The plan had a smooth start. There was a moderate amount of traffic. Given the time and street locations, Matt knew which route was the best to take thanks to Mello's predictions of traffic. He slowed down as he was approaching the building that Takada was going to be walking in. There was no time for second thoughts. He couldn't leave Mello to stumble alone in the plan meant for two, so when he saw his chance, with a clear mind and several deep breaths, he drove rapidly to follow through with the plan.

His hands were shaking. Oh god they were shaking uncontrollably. But he sure as hell wasn't going to let the fear show on his face. With a straight poker face, he drove in and shot out the smoke grenade to distract the guards. He could see Mello on his bike in the rearview mirror and drove as quick as he came away from the building. He did his part of the plan. Now it was up to Mello.

He did what Mello needed him to do. Now, if he was killed, Mello didn't need him. It hurt to admit but if death was to take him, there was no reason for the blond to fall with him. But it would still probably occur. Matt wanted Mello to go on if he died, but he knew that the chances for that to happen were unlikely. After the kidnapping, after bringing down Kira, Matt would be unsurprised if Mello took his own life if his own life ended. And Matt had no will to go on without Mello.

_Would you cry if I died?_

He drove recklessly fast, even more so than normal, and braked suddenly with such force when he saw the line of cars waiting for him. Takada's bodyguards had caught up with him. Matt was scared. Dreadfully so. And with good reason. But there was no turning back. He had to survive for Mello's sake. Him dying would ultimately end in Mello's death too. And Mello dying seemed worse than his own name written in the death note. So after sitting in the car for a moment, questioning the possibilities, he walked out of the car. Exposing himself. Trying to control his shaking.

He couldn't die. He couldn't. He couldn't. At the very least he had to buy as much time as possible for Mello. Calmly, concealing the scared Wammy teen he was, he showed his face to the body guards. He was only 19. He was going to turn 20 in February. He is going to turn 20 in February. He was going to survive. He had to. Mello was already 21. Matt wasn't about to die. "Since when were the Japanese allowed to have such big guns?" he questioned. God, they were all pointed at him.

This wasn't where he was going to die. It couldn't. They were going to question him. Try to find out everything they could about Mello. He would just have to wait and stay silent until Mello could get to him. Mello would come for him. Definitely. Without a fail, Mello would find Matt. He just had to wait until he did. The cigarette did nothing to calm him. He bit the inside of his cheeks and it quickly drew blood. The cold, metallic taste of blood flooding his senses.

But then the bullets.

Multiple bullets. More bullets that were possibly needed. They pierced through him effortlessly, tearing holes into his body. And for a moment, Matt could feel nothing but pain, oh god the pain. As the shells punctured his entity, he couldn't even yell out. And then the moment passed and Matt could feel nothing. The pain passed. Mello was waiting for him. He had to get to Mello. Matt fell, his torn body leaking. Red. It was staining the seats of the red car that he loved so much. If he could only see it. Red like his hair. Red like the final colors of the vibrant sunset. And red like the wine that he and Mello shared. Everything was red. And that was the punishment for going again Kira.

Mello would have to go on without him. Matt wanted more than everything for Mello to continue his life. And before his cigarette fell out of his mouth and onto the cold, black asphalt, he knew Mello would remember him in whatever end that he or Mello met. The cigarette hit the asphalt before his body did.

_Would you remember my face?_

It ended so quickly.

_Please please review. I don't have a lot of confidence on this chapter so please tell me if you liked it or not. Did I make anyone sad? _

_One more chapter left. It's going to be a really short chapter so I hope to get it out by next weekend. _


	6. Wammy Children

The concrete he fell upon was hard and cold. The air was colder. Harshly biting into the Tokyo skyline, the ferocity of the winter pierced through the mass of people. There was a large line of cars waiting at a standstill. A major street was blocked, causing the massive traffic jam. Local and tourist pedestrians passed the vehicles giving half a thought of what was holding up a great number of cars.

There weren't enough thoughts given. There never was. Not for someone like Matt. Only a select few knew that a rebel against Kira was shot. And those didn't know his name. They didn't know his childhood, his fears, his being. Takada's body guards didn't know a single thing about Matt. Nothing. None of them knew of Matt. None of them knew of Mello either. Simply, they died like many others that didn't oblige to Kira's teachings. Just another death for those that deserve it. Another body. So easily disposable.

And it ended. It ended so soon. Matt wasn't even 20 yet. He had so much left to do. He promised Roger he'd come back one day. He said he would. There was so much left for him. He never wanted to bring down Kira. He just wanted to see Mello without the pain in his eyes. It was costly, to remove the pain, but Matt had accepted the price.

So when he found his soul being lifted gently from his body, he felt peace within him. There were no cries of realization, no bargaining, no raw panic. A single blanket of acceptance that wrapped around his tired soul. He was being carried off somewhere. Maybe it was to heaven. Did he deserve to go to heaven after everything? He found himself hoping he did. To go to the heaven that Mello believed in. Mello.

"I have to stay here," he said aloud. "I have to wait for Mello." And after a moment of stillness, he felt his legs touch the ground. Matt couldn't leave without Mello. He'd wait for him, no matter how long it took. A part of him wanted to see him right then. To hold his tired, broken body against his own in that moment. To move away from their lives, remove themselves from Kira, and continue on in the afterlife with a blank slate immediately. But that wasn't a wholehearted feeling. Matt thought it was selfish to want Mello dead and with him, no matter how much he wanted to see him. Even through the length and vulnerability of life, Matt wanted Mello to survive. God, he wanted to be beside him, of course, but he also wanted Mello to live the life he deserved.

Matt, even in death, wished for Mello's happiness. Perhaps happiness was too strong of a term. Perhaps Matt wanted Mello to just survive the night and finish the plan off alone and see the next day and the day after that. It hurt. To know that he'll never be a part of Mello's life ever again. Still, he found himself wishing. Wishing for Mello to be fine and continue on moving forward in his life alone. Truly, though it hurt to think about, Matt wanted Mello to live on without him.

But it didn't take more than a couple hours before Matt found himself standing before a burning church. Immediately he remembered back to the day where he found Mello after he left Wammy's. He couldn't breathe. "Mello!" he called out. "Mello! God damn it, Mello!" he yelled as loud as he could. He couldn't bring himself to run into the fire. There was no rush of adrenaline fueling his entity. There was no entering the flaming building. There was no saving Mello. If Mello was in the burning church, there was no way of him coming out alive. He was gone, just as Matt was. Matt sank to his knees, finding he couldn't bear to know that there was Mello in there. Why else would Matt be there?

And sure enough, there was a voice, smooth and confident. "Are you fucking stupid or something?" Mello sat in front of the church, blankly watching the flames yet to reach its peak. Matt saw him and after his surprise wore off; he gave a sad, knowing smile and sat beside him. "I'd have to be stupid to have agreed to kidnapping Takada with you." There was little spoken after that. They silently watched the fire burning bright.

"Damn it," Mello finally muttered. "We failed, didn't we?" Matt sighed. He knew he was going to ask that. A meaningless death. He didn't lie to him. Mello was too smart to be lied to. Matt was too smart to lie to him. "Yeah… But I'm fine with that." He wrote his name, his real name in the dirt and continued. "It wasn't completely worthless though, we helped Near find the final piece of the puzzle. He's smart enough to know where it goes. That's the best we could do for the overgrown cotton ball and the rest of the fucking world. And really Mello, I don't mind. I really don't mind being dead." Mello, who had been writing his own name beside Mail Jeevas', flinched at Matt's last words.

"Of course you mind being dead!" Mello snapped. "Being dead means we lost. Being dead means we failed to show the world who we were and what we were capable of. We put so much work into our lives and look where it fucking took us. We deserved better."

_Mihael Keehl_ and _Mail Jeevas_ the dirt read.

"Mello, really. It's okay." Matt said quietly. "We did everything we could. I don't give a damn what the world thinks of us. Let's go home. Come on Mells, we can do whatever we want now. It's okay for you to be happy now. It's okay for you to not carry that burden of Kira around with you everywhere now. Let that burden go."

And Mello, suddenly, spontaneously, released the tears he must've been holding in for longer than he could bear. "I want to go back!" he yelled in between sobs. He had been too strong for too long. The pain he had been hiding finally came out. Matt took him into his arms. It hurt for Matt too. "I want to go back to Wammy's Matt. I want to go back and be kids," the trembling blond confessed. He wanted the innocence that Kira stole back. "Then let's go back. I bet everyone there is waiting for you. Roger told me to come back and visit. Surely, everyone is waiting for us with a smile on their face. Let's go back Mello. Let's go to Wammy's."

And then Matt found himself crying too. Like when he was a kid at Wammy's, he cried again, wanting to return. He had enough of the world, dealing with Kira and everything else. He wanted to be safe, back on the right side of the oversized gates. Since he was a child, he thought the orphanage gates were built to keep him and Mello and the other orphans from the outside world, but now, so far away from the comfort of the gates, he understood that the gates were built to protect the children lacking the safety and comfort of their parents; to be protecting from the reality that dwelled outside the gates. He wanted to go back. He wanted back their childhood. The nostalgic years of mischief and making mistakes.

They could do it if they wanted. They had the opportunity to take back a sliver of their wishes from Kira. And so Matt and Mello, after many years of their tired souls beating on, took that opportunity. They continued on.

_Thank you everyone for following the end of this story. I'm completely surprised by the number of people that have read it. So thank you. I will be continuing to write fanfictions in the death note fandom so please look for me in the future._


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